During the days immediately succeeding the fire and the Carringford's poignant trouble, Janice Day had a mental problem to solve which occupied her thoughts a good part of the time.
Daddy's broken leg was getting along nicely. With the aid of crutches he could get around very well indeed. He had even gone down to the bank in an automobile.
So Janice did not have to give him quite the close care and attention that she previously had. Daddy declared she was making a mollycoddle of him, anyway—that she babied him too much.
She had more freedom of action, therefore, and now she proceeded to put a certain plan she had made into effect. Janice had not forgotten what Bertha Warring had said regarding the information Stella Latham had hidden from her, Janice, at the time school closed.
Could it be that, after all was said and done, the Olga who had broken Mrs. Latham's dish was the same Olga that had run away with the Day's treasure-box? Was it Olga Cedarstrom, with her name changed, and Stella had known it to be so, all the time?
Really, when Janice thought of this she felt exceedingly angry with Stella. She had intended, after Stella had acted so meanly toward Amy Carringford, to let the farmer's daughter strictly alone in the future. She would have as little to do with her as it was possible, considering that she had to go to school with her. That was at first. Then her anger had cooled. Now it was aflame again.
But if Stella knew positively that the Swedish girl who had visited Mrs. Johnson had been married, and therefore her name was no longer Cedarstrom, Janice was determined to find it out. Unpleasant as might be to ask Stella, Janice would do just this.
She knew Stella had returned from her visit to the lake shore resort. Janice had seen her flying past in the Latham car more than once within the week. Janice could not stop her at such times; she could not expect Stella to put herself out at all to give her any information. So she set forth one August morning to trudge through the heat and dust out to the Latham farm. There was no interurban car that would take her near there; and how she did wish daddy could afford an automobile!
Indeed, just as she turned up the road leading to the door of the
Latham house a motor-car turned, too, into the road, powdering
Janice with dust. The latter saw the malicious smile of Stella
Latham, driving the car herself, as the farmer's daughter looked
back over her shoulder at the pedestrian.
Janice kept grimly on; nor would she show Stella that she was hurt or ruffled in temper. Stella waited on the porch for her schoolmate to approach. A man came to take the car around to the garage.